


Faultlines

by bug_from_space



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, the author cried while writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 07:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14765325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bug_from_space/pseuds/bug_from_space
Summary: A drabble about Barty dealing with his mother's death.





	Faultlines

**Author's Note:**

> Crosspoasted with aesthetic here: https://manynarrators.tumblr.com/post/174292129949/for-barty-ofc-d
> 
> Just the aesthetic: https://78.media.tumblr.com/2958800317aabf5fe45907f79553d4e1/tumblr_inline_p9dbyqxmPy1vlwyd3_540.png

Some things are easy to do. Mourn the death of his mother, was not. Not when the guilt was overwhelming. When he knew without a doubt, he was the cause. (Fate is a cruel bedfellow for some.) Sometimes, it was easier to fade into the apathy, most days, he considers joining her. (He doesn’t. She would be so disappointed in him. She died to save him.) The house remains silent. He doesn’t speak, not to the house-elves, and not to himself (his father was never an option). No longer was there any reading of the Greek myths, or gentle lullabies (the piano remains untouched, a relic.)

There are times in his grief, and in his isolation when he tries writing a letter (an apology, a justification, a goodbye.) It never works, some words cannot be spoken. Not eloquently enough to honor her. Some pieces are stained by tears, the salt water smudging the ink beyond all recognition, others are torn up, a select few are burned.

He wants to be able to blame his father. (He can’t. It was his choices, his fault. His father may have been a catalyst, but not everything.) He wants to be able to cause rage and ruin, and destruction. Because that would be easier than this, this cold, empty loneliness. He knows what the other Deatheaters would call her; a ‘casualty’. A casualty, as if she were nothing more than any other person. (In his darkest moments he wonders about his uncle, Evander, this must be causing him pain. It’s not, he’s dead, on hearing the news.) Incarceration was almost a blessing. The ability to mourn, to grieve would be a mercy.


End file.
